


Sloppy Seconds

by Ellidfics



Series: Captain Fraudulent:  The Outtakes [47]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Drunkenness, F/M, misuse of Peter Gabriel songs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-07
Updated: 2019-08-07
Packaged: 2020-08-11 00:50:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20144827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ellidfics/pseuds/Ellidfics
Summary: Sharon Carter’s wannabe boyfriend tries a very old trick to win her back from Captain Perfect.It does not go well.Just ask Brock Rumlow.





	Sloppy Seconds

The jukebox was playing something by the Clash when Rumlow pushed his way through the crowd to STRIKE’s usual high top in the corner. The weeknight bartender spotted him and jerked his chin at the nearest waitress, and by the time Rumlow slid into place by Rollins, Suzuki, and a wobbly Neal Tapper, a pint whatever was on tap tonight was waiting for him.

“Hey, boss,” said Suzuki. He’d already finished his first beer and ordered wings for the table. “We saved a chair for you.”

“Yeah, great.” Rumlow took long pull on his beer and waited as the tension of having to spend a whole day making nicey-nice with idiots started to drain away. He grabbed a wing, dunked it in the Buffalo Bleu Ranch Sauce that was half the reason STRIKE patronized this dump, and took his first blissful bite. “Thanks.”

He’d finished two wings and was about to start on the third when he realized Tapper hadn’t done anything except occasionally blink in the general direction of his glass. “What’s with him?”

Rollins shook his head. “He tried to ask Carter out for a date. Didn’t go well.”

“Well of course it didn’t go well, she’s dating Rogers and – “ Rumlow stopped. “Wait. Is he on drugs? She’s dating _Rogers_. Of course she’s going to turn him down!”

“Fuck that asshole,” said Tapper. He lifted his head and fixed Rumlow with a bleary gaze. “Fuck him with his own fucking shield.”

Rumlow had no love for Rogers, especially after losing a bet to Clint freakin’ Barton about Captain Perfect’s taste in disco, but this was a new one. “Tapper. What the hell is going on?”

“Shoulda been mine. I’d treat her like a queen, not sloppy – “ Tapper belched, loud and long, and made a grab at the wings. “Sloppy seconds. She’s better than that dried-up old bitch – “

“What dried up old bitch? Rogers is an asshole but it’s not like he’s someone’s boy toy,” said Rumlow. He waved a chicken wing at Rollins. “Jack? Translate this?”

Rollins sighed. “Jesus. It was a real mess. I mean, climbing up a girl’s fire escape with a boombox – “

“Boombox – Christ, that ain’t translating,” said Rumlow, and if they hadn’t been in public he would have whacked his second whip upside the head. “Start at the beginning, Jack – not you, Tapper, you’re drunk! Jack - ”

“Hold on – damn it, Neal!” Rollins hauled Tapper back into his chair as the other man started to slide onto the floor. “I told you she’s not worth it. No bitch is.”

Tapper actually snarled, which normally would have been unnerving if he hadn’t been listing so much to the right he was practically in Rollins’ lap. “Sharon – Sharon Carter is a _lady_. She is _not_ a bitch.”

“Okay, okay, she’s a lady.” Rollins made a face and pushed Tapper back onto his own stool. “Either way, no _lady_ is worth it. Plenty of other bi - _ladies_ out there.”

“She – there’s no one like her.” Tapper stabbed a finger at the table top, missed, and splashed Buffalo Bleu Ranch on the scarred wood. “She deserves better than a guy who’d dump her for her own aunt if the ass - *urp*, sorry – assholes in the lab finished that time cube thing – “

Rodriguez, frowning, made her way through the tables before Tapper spoiled the rest of the sauce. She was in civvies, and as usual, she looked much girlier when she wasn’t in her tac suit. “Tapper? Carter gave me this for you.”

“She – oh God, she changed her mind?” Tapper lunged forward, nearly landing chest-first in the nachos as Rodriguez shoved an envelope in his general direction. “She changed her mind?”

Rodriguez rolled her eyes. “Just read the letter, Neal. And lay off the beer. Jesus, how many have you had already?”

“Only – two? Three?”

“Ha! You wish,” said Rollins, holding up five fingers. One foot tapped in rhythm with whatever country song was playing on the jukebox. “Tapper, you’re drunk. Go home and get sobered up. Carter’s gonna tell the Old Man, and – “

Tapper hiccuped. “Fuck him. Fuck Rogers. Fuck ‘em all. Fuck her too if she’s too dumb to know she’s – she’s sloppy seconds - “

A waitress walked past, shaking her head and muttering something that sounded like “men are idiots.” Rodriguez, who clearly had better hearing than Tapper right now, high-fived the waitress and turned back to the table. “Give it a rest, Neal,” she said. “You went out with her once, six months ago. Lillian down in Accounting would go out with you in a heartbeat. Ask her and leave Carter alone.”

“Lillian?” Rollins perked up. “Is she the one with the tats and the rack? That lip ring is hot as – “

“Shut it, Jack,” said Rumlow. He shoved the nachos out of the way before Tapper could faceplant into a handful that were more chili than chip. “Could someone tell me what the fuck is going on?”

Rodriguez snagged a less than loaded nacho and took a bite. “Short answer: Neal decided to get Carter to date him by climbing up her fire escape and making like Lloyd Dobler.”

Rumlow nearly spat his beer straight into Suzuki’s face. “He _what_?

Suzuki dodged – good reflexes, that extra training had paid off – and pulled out his phone. He swiped to the videos section. “That’s why Neal’s a mess, Boss. Here, take a look. It’s kinda grainy but – “

The video was so dark it was hard to tell whether it was grainy or not, but there was no mistaking the bass line of “In Your Eyes,” or the screech near the end from that African guy with the unpronounceable name. Ditto the slam of a window being wrenched open, or Sharon Carter saying “Neal? Turn that thing off _now_” in a voice that could have frozen fresh lava. 

“Look at what? There’s a fire escape and – woa! The hell?” Rumlow jerked backwards hard enough to slop beer on the floor as the image resolved enough to make out a shadow with twice the normal quota of shoulders. “Is that _Rogers?_”

“His dick isn’t as big as mine,” whined Tapper, stabbing at the phone with his clean hand and missing. “Captain ‘Roid Freak, his balls are the size of marbles, why she’s banging him I – “

“Shut it, Tapper,” Rumlow ground out. Whomever had taken the video had finally figured out how to compensate for the terrible lighting enough that it was impossible to miss the sight of Captain Goody Two-Shoes himself, in nothing but a towel, storming out of Sharon Carter’s apartment onto the fire escape, grabbing the boombox out of Tapper’s hands, and tossing it over his shoulder into the alley with a loud and fatal crunch. 

“Tapper?” Rogers hitched up the towel, but not before it dropped enough to prove that Tapper was dead wrong about his Little America. “What are you doing here?”

Carter, in a t-shirt that was clearly Rogers’ and a pair of SHIELD yoga pants, clambered out onto the fire escape right after Tapper’s replacement. She’d drawn her sidearm on her way to the window, and Rumlow was pretty sure he wasn’t imagining a strangled squeak from Tapper as she drew a bead on his crotch.

“I – augh – can’t – “

“I told you I wasn’t interested six months ago.” Carter bared her teeth. “Get the hell off my fire escape.”

“But Sharon – I love – “

“You heard the lady,” said Rogers. He gave Tapper a shake that had his head wobbling like one of those hulu girls Rollins had stuck on the dashboard of his truck after he’d spent two weeks in Hawaii learning to surf. “Scram.”

“But my – my boombox – “

“Bill me,” said Carter. It was her turn to shove him, and only Rogers’ grip on Tapper’s shoulder kept him from joining the boombox three stories down. “Now get out of here before I call the police.”

“Sharon, Sharon, listen, he’s not good enough for – “

“Or _Fury_.”

“But – “

Fortunately the video ended just before Tapper either pissed himself or pissed off Rogers enough that he threw _Tapper_ over his shoulder. Rumlow closed his eyes. Was there enough porn in the world to get this out of his brain? Especially the part right before it cut off where the towel did fall off and Rogers accidentally (?) flashed whomever was holding up the phone? 

“See what I mean?” Tapper all but wailed. “I’m - *urk*, ‘scuse me – I’m gonna file a complaint ‘gainst him. See what Captain Micro Dick – “

“Jesus, kill me now.”

“ – says when Fury spends – spe – spiss– suspends him for harassment – “

“_You_ stalked Carter, you moron,” said Rumlow. He wished, not for the first time, that the Secretary hadn’t basically ordered him to cultivate Tapper as a source on Carter and her burger-buddy. “It anyone’s getting suspended, it ain’t Captain Perfect.”

“He’s not per-perfect, he’s a fucking moron, Sharon’s _mine_, he’ll - *urp* - go back to that old bitch the second he gets the - *urp* - chance and – “

“Jesus, get a bucket!” yelled Suzuki, just before Tapper vomited messily all over the peanut shells on the floor of the bar. “Aw, shit.”

Rumlow shoved back from the table with a disgusted hiss. Christ almighty, was there anything worse than a sloppy drunk? “Someone get a bucket and clean this up before they throw us out. _Jesus_.”

Suzuki scrambled past the pool of vomit just in time for the waitress to show up with a tin pail and a mop. “Right, Boss. Gimme a second.”

“She’ll find out. Time cube guys said they’d send Rogers back if he wanted and he said – “

“He’d go back only if they sent him to Okinawa during the war, not the ETO. Something about time paradoxes? Besides, that time travel stuff is at least ten years away.” Rodriguez interrupted before Tapper could start ranting again. She paused until he’d raised his head enough to notice her, then took the slightly crumpled envelope and shoved it down the front of his turtleneck. “You’d know that if you’d actually paid attention during the demo instead of mooning over Carter.”

Tapper blinked. “What? Okinawa? Carter’s aunt was there too? Fuckin’ hell, I gotta – “

Rumlow threw his head back and counted the cracks in the ceiling. “Jack? Get this moron outa here before I throttle him.”

“But – “

“Get. Him. Out.” Rumlow jerked his thumb at the door. “_Now_.”

Rollins scowled, but he knew better than to argue. Rumlow watched as he grabbed Tapper by the arm, hauled him upright, and marched him toward the men’s room to clean him up enough to drag him back to his apartment. Suzuki had finished mopping and had gone over to the bar to apologize and order another round, while Rodriguez had spotted one of her buddies from Records and was ordering more wings and something with a bunch of mint leaves in it. 

“Time cubes, my ass,” Rumlow muttered as a different waitress wiped down the high top and brought him a fresh order of wings. Next time he wanted the dirt on Rogers and Carter, he’d plant a bug in her apartment. A guy dumb enough to climb up a girl’s fire escape with a boombox was just not worth it.


End file.
